“Fair enough,” Midge replies. She hadn’t remembered that bit about the sorceresses being part of the royal court. This brownstone must be really down market for her.
Midge would like to point out that it’s not her fault that Geralt can smell hormones, nor can she contain hers when Jaskier is around. At least he can have no doubt about how sexually attracted to each other they are.
“Kosher is a way of eating,” Midge tells Ciri, sure that Jaskier is hating this conversation. “It’s part of my religion. I’m Jewish. Kosher basically means that there are things we aren’t supposed to eat, or things we aren’t supposed to eat together, or that animals should be slaughtered in a certain way.”
Geralt frowns at the explanation - there are many religions back in their world with all kinds of crazy habits, but controlling what someone eats is new. At least, not counting holiday food or fasting. He arches an eyebrow at Jaskier, who shakes his head to stop him from saying anything. Luckily, it's easy for Geralt to keep his mouth shut. He's spent many decades just ignoring what humans say and staying in his line.
"So you can't eat whatever you want? That sounds annoying," Ciri comments with a cute little frown of her own.
"Well," Jaskier cuts in with a clap of his hands, eager to redirect the conversation. "Luckily for us, Midge is spoiling us with her best dish! And let me tell you, it's absolutely delicious. What's the next step, darling?"
“I mostly eat whatever I want,” Midge replies, “even bacon sometimes, which I’m not supposed to.” She generally doesn't feel limited by eating Kosher. It probably also helps that she’s not absolutely militant about it.
Jaskier is very pointedly changing the subject, and that’s fine with her. “The secret ingredient,” Midge says. With the wine and beef broth in, Midge holds up the next item. “Ketchup. A lot of people use tomato paste, but ketchup is better.”
That little admission of rebellion actually earns her some points with the whole family, including Jaskier. It almost makes him wish it wasn't such a complicated subject, because he'd love to tease her for it.
Geralt takes the bottle of ketchup and repeats the process: he gives it a sniff, then he reads the label. Once again, a bunch of words that he doesn't understand. High fructose? Natural flavoring? Calories? This is why he wants to learn; he often feels so lost in the market.
"Why not just use mashed tomatoes?" he genuinely asks.
"Oh, I remember this! It was on the hot dog," Cirilla says, excited to know something her father doesn't. "It's good, but it doesn't taste like tomatoes."
“I think it tastes like tomatoes,” Midge says with a shrug. Maybe she’s been living in the city too long. She gets out a quarter measuring cup and starts to pour the ketchup into it. “Anyway, it’s got sugar, vinegar and some other things in there which mix very nicely with the meat, better than just plain tomato paste.”
Ketchup in the pot, Midge calls for the rest of the vegetables to be put in. “Once this is simmering we’ll move all of it to a casserole dish to put in the oven. Do you have any dried herbs, like rosemary or thyme?”
It's a very innocent question, but Jaskier and Ciri end up laughing anyway. Geralt rolls his eyes at them before opening a cupboard to proudly show Midge his collection of herbs. The glass jars don't have lids; they're covered by a piece of fabric that is tied with string. The homemade labels were clearly written by Jaskier's fine penmanship because he hates Geralt's handwriting.
"Told you it was only half the garden," Jaskier teases, but he's proud of Geralt and his little hobby too.
“Oh, lovely,” Midge says with a grin. So quaint. She easily finds rosemary and thyme and starts to measure some of them out. “Amazing that you grew all this in that little plot of land.” Midge looks at the jars. “This is your handwriting,” she says to Jaskier. “I’d recognize it anywhere.”
It occurs to her that she’d love to get a handwritten love note from Jaskier someday. Maybe she’ll leave him one and get the ball rolling.
She stirs the vegetables around the meat. “Casserole dish with lid?” she asks hopefully.
"Herbs don't require much space," Geralt explains. He still doesn't know what to do with compliments, but they do feel nice. "You can even grow some of them in jars."
Jaskier grins when Midge recognizes his handwriting, feeling all warm and fuzzy by such a silly but loving thing. "Of course. Someone had to make things legible in this house. Did you know that when you depend on your nose to find things, your handwriting becomes absolute crap?"
Geralt playfully slaps Jaskier's arm and the bard sticks his tongue out at him, so it's up to Ciri to bring the casserole dish out.
“Now, now children,” Midge says in a faux scolding tone. “Play nice.”
After Ciri hands her the dish, Midge spears the meat with two forks and transfers it to the dish. She then carefully spoons out the vegetables and puts them around the meat and pours the liquid on top. With the lid on the dish, it goes into the oven.
“And there you have it. Now — “ Midge turns to Geralt. “You have the very important job of checking on it every 40 minutes or so. Stir the vegetables and if it looks too dry, add some water to it. Got that?”
Ciri laughs at Midge's faux scolding and Jaskier pouts - he's being mistreated here, this is a scandal! Geralt just hums as usual, not liking being scolded but not willing to argue about it either. He does pay very close attention to Midge's instructions, nodding along to every word. He looks very focused.
"You've given him a mission," Yennefer's voice echoes in the kitchen as she comes in to partake in some wine. Midge's suitcase has been left by the door, and it's still glowing a tiny bit. "I was told today we could relax."
"I still can relax," Geralt answers with a frown. Jaskier and Cirilla laugh while Yennefer snorts, shaking her head.
Is the joke that Geralt never relaxes? Midge doesn’t know him well enough yet, so she just smiles for now. “If one of you checks on in a few times today, it should be fine. Hopefully it won’t disturb your peace too much.” Midge winks.
"Peace?" Jaskier asks. "Is that what we're calling it now?" Ciri says gross as both Yennefer and Geralt slap him on the arm. Ah, family.
Jaskier nods at Midge's question and gets his blue trenchcoat, which he already left in the living room. Ciri runs upstairs to get hers while Jaskier checks all his pockets for his wallet, phone, and notebook.
"You know this city the best. Cab? Subway? Walking?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Midge would like to point out that it’s not her fault that Geralt can smell hormones, nor can she contain hers when Jaskier is around. At least he can have no doubt about how sexually attracted to each other they are.
“Kosher is a way of eating,” Midge tells Ciri, sure that Jaskier is hating this conversation. “It’s part of my religion. I’m Jewish. Kosher basically means that there are things we aren’t supposed to eat, or things we aren’t supposed to eat together, or that animals should be slaughtered in a certain way.”
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"So you can't eat whatever you want? That sounds annoying," Ciri comments with a cute little frown of her own.
"Well," Jaskier cuts in with a clap of his hands, eager to redirect the conversation. "Luckily for us, Midge is spoiling us with her best dish! And let me tell you, it's absolutely delicious. What's the next step, darling?"
no subject
Jaskier is very pointedly changing the subject, and that’s fine with her. “The secret ingredient,” Midge says. With the wine and beef broth in, Midge holds up the next item. “Ketchup. A lot of people use tomato paste, but ketchup is better.”
no subject
Geralt takes the bottle of ketchup and repeats the process: he gives it a sniff, then he reads the label. Once again, a bunch of words that he doesn't understand. High fructose? Natural flavoring? Calories? This is why he wants to learn; he often feels so lost in the market.
"Why not just use mashed tomatoes?" he genuinely asks.
"Oh, I remember this! It was on the hot dog," Cirilla says, excited to know something her father doesn't. "It's good, but it doesn't taste like tomatoes."
That only confuses Geralt more.
no subject
Ketchup in the pot, Midge calls for the rest of the vegetables to be put in. “Once this is simmering
we’ll move all of it to a casserole dish to put in the oven. Do you have any dried herbs, like rosemary or thyme?”
More kitchen essentials she presumed they’d have.
no subject
"Told you it was only half the garden," Jaskier teases, but he's proud of Geralt and his little hobby too.
no subject
It occurs to her that she’d love to get a handwritten love note from Jaskier someday. Maybe she’ll leave him one and get the ball rolling.
She stirs the vegetables around the meat. “Casserole dish with lid?” she asks hopefully.
no subject
Jaskier grins when Midge recognizes his handwriting, feeling all warm and fuzzy by such a silly but loving thing. "Of course. Someone had to make things legible in this house. Did you know that when you depend on your nose to find things, your handwriting becomes absolute crap?"
Geralt playfully slaps Jaskier's arm and the bard sticks his tongue out at him, so it's up to Ciri to bring the casserole dish out.
no subject
After Ciri hands her the dish, Midge spears the meat with two forks and transfers it to the dish. She then carefully spoons out the vegetables and puts them around the meat and pours the liquid on top. With the lid on the dish, it goes into the oven.
“And there you have it. Now — “ Midge turns to Geralt. “You have the very important job of checking on it every 40 minutes or so. Stir the vegetables and if it looks too dry, add some water to it. Got that?”
no subject
"You've given him a mission," Yennefer's voice echoes in the kitchen as she comes in to partake in some wine. Midge's suitcase has been left by the door, and it's still glowing a tiny bit. "I was told today we could relax."
"I still can relax," Geralt answers with a frown. Jaskier and Cirilla laugh while Yennefer snorts, shaking her head.
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She turns to Jaskier and Ciri. “Ready to go?”
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Jaskier nods at Midge's question and gets his blue trenchcoat, which he already left in the living room. Ciri runs upstairs to get hers while Jaskier checks all his pockets for his wallet, phone, and notebook.
"You know this city the best. Cab? Subway? Walking?"